


Shackle Your Creativity

by JamesAeza



Series: A Little Too Literal [3]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Caring Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Fluff, M/M, Restraints, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:02:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26974117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamesAeza/pseuds/JamesAeza
Summary: "You try to create art, but you shackle your creativity!"Roman should know by now that once said, things come true more easily.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders
Series: A Little Too Literal [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1871620
Comments: 9
Kudos: 153





	Shackle Your Creativity

**Author's Note:**

> This is less a popular idiom and rather just something Roman said in Am I Original, but I sill thought it could make a decent fic. Enjoy!
> 
> (This one gets a little *steamy* towards the end. You have been forewarned.)

Roman was not doing well. 

Sometimes, things happened to him that he couldn’t control. Even if, as creativity, he should have been able to control them. Today was one of those days. 

He’d been scribbling away on a pad of paper, drowning out the world around him, when the first of it came. Two cold metal bracelets around his wrists that wouldn’t move even as he pulled and yanked and even tried to rip it off with his mouth. After a few minutes, he ignored them and went back to what he was working on- until he couldn’t anymore. The bracelets had fused together, forcing his hands into a restrained position. He took a deep breath, placing his hands down on the table as he felt the cold metal clamp itself around his neck, too, with an uncomfortably short chain connecting the collar to his wrists. 

He stared at it, eyes wide. It had never been this bad before. Not even close, and now he was completely unable to move his hands. 

He got to his feet, unsure what he was doing or why but feeling the need to do  _ something _ . 

He was not pleased to find that his legs were secured as well. He fell back into the chair, unsure if it was worthwhile to formulate a plan or if it was just one of those things he needed to wait out. 

He sighed, placing his head down on the table. He’d just… rest for a moment, and then he would figure something out. 

Today was a bad day for Virgil. Anxiety-wise, that was. All sorts of thoughts swirling around that just wouldn’t leave him alone. About the content not being good enough, nothing is unique or clever or even mildly entertaining. Ideas were getting shut down a mile a minute. 

He took a deep breath as he tried to unclench the hands that were grabbing at his hair, only half-succeeding. This was more stressed than he’d felt in ages, and weeks of work had been overturned on nothing but a couple comments from Virgil. He felt horribly guilty about it, which only added to the mounting stress and anxiety. He wasn’t really sure where it came from, or if there was anything to be done about it except wait. 

Wait. 

Maybe the one creating the ideas could assuage his concerns, at least a little. It was pretty likely that Roman would be able to help, even if he was a bit difficult to deal with. Explain what was going on and why Virgil’s concerns were irrational. 

The more he thought about it, it was definitely a good idea. He took a deep, calming breath, and started making his way to the other’s room.

This was not what he’d expected to see. 

Roman was restlessly half-asleep on his desk. Maybe the reason for all the unusual nerves was just Roman working too hard. Virgil laughed a little at his face pressed against the wood before giving his shoulders a little shake. 

He was confused upon hearing a rattling noise as Roman was rudely thrown back into reality, pulling a little on the chain. 

Virgil gave him a long look as he sleepily sat up. “Oh. You’re here.”

Virgil stared at him. “..yes, I’m here. Why are you… like that?”

“Like this?” Roman gestured towards his wrists and sighed, leaning back in his chair and looking up at Virgil. “Oh, it’s your fault. But you probably can’t do anything about it, so just don’t worry about it. It goes away eventually.” 

Virgil’s eyes widened. “It’s  _ my _ fault?  _ Don’t worry about it? _ ”

“...yeah.”

“Elaborate?”

“Sometimes, when you are creativity, as I am,” he attempted to gesture with his hands before remembering that was impossible, “Things that shouldn’t be possible are. I went and said it out loud, and now it’s happening.”

Virgil seemed to be lost for a few seconds before it hit him. “Shackle your creativity. But- how is that my fault?”

Roman gave him a long look, and Virgil suddenly felt the desire to disappear into his jacket after remembering all the ideas he’d vetoed today alone. “So- I’m in control of you now?”

“Don’t kid yourself, Virge,” Roman began. “You’ve always been in charge.”

“I- what?”

“Oh, don’t act so surprised. I could work on something for months and you could turn it down with a single word. Why do you think I used to hate you so much? Now there’s just a physical aspect too.” He waved his restrained arms around for emphasis. 

“I…” First things first. “Do you think I could get it off then?”

Roman shrugged. “I don’t know. You can try.” He shut his eyes expectantly. 

After a moment’s hesitation, Virgil leaned a bit closer, taking Roman’s hands in his and searching the metal for a latch or a keyhole or anything that could potentially free the other. With little success, he tried to push his fingers under the band, but found it was too tight. 

He sighed lightly, moving on to the other’s neck in the hope he might have more luck with that one. There was none, but Virgil’s cold fingers brushing his skin sent a shiver down Roman’s spine. 

Virgil frowned. “No luck. Any other ideas?”

Roman shrugged. “Probably if you stopped turning down everything I say, but I doubt that’s very possible.”

Virgil blushed brightly as he seated himself in front of Roman on the desk. He lifted one hand, scrubbing at his eye. “How long does it usually take for stuff like this to go away?”

“Anywhere between a couple hours and a week or two.”

“Oh- oh god, well that’s not gonna work.”

Roman shrugged, trying to roll out the muscles in his neck as best he could. 

“Does your neck hurt?”

“Mhm.”

“Maybe you should lie down.”

“Can’t,” Roman informed him, nodding towards his feet. “Stuck.”

“Oh.” With almost no warning, Virgil scooped one arm under his knees and one across his back, lifting him into a bridal hold. 

Roman yelped a little, the intrusion unexpected. He looked up into Virgil’s face. “How did you do that?”

Virgil laughed, moving quickly across the room before depositing him in his bed, carefully placing the pillow under his head to give his neck a little relief. “Dude, I  _ am  _ the fight-or-flight reflex. You didn’t expect a noodle under here, did you?”

Roman looked him up and down. “Well seeing as you look pretty much like a depressed teenager from the early 2000s, yes that’s more or less what I expected.”

Virgil smacked him gently on the arm, rolling his eyes. After a moment, he closed them and took a deep breath. “It feels nice in here,” he observed quietly. 

Shutting his eyes, he took in the feeling. It was almost like when inspiration hits, just- the feeling of wanting to  _ do _ something. He breathed in again and heard a soft noise of confusion from beside him. 

Looking over, he could see that Roman was rubbing his wrists, metal suddenly gone. 

“Whatever you’re doing,” he whispered, “keep doing it.”

Virgil obediently shut his eyes once again, taking in the aura of the room. The feeling of wanting to get things done, to just go, go, go, who cares if it’s good enough, just  _ do something. _

He heard a sigh of relief next to him, and Roman’s hands were gently tracing his neck, now irritated and red, similarly to his wrists. Virgil, after making his way to Roman’s bathroom and poking around a bit, found a tub of cream to ease the discomfort. 

Roman was sitting up in his bed now, still rubbing at the red circles. Virgil carefully held onto his wrists, slathering the cream on before wrapping it in bandages so he couldn’t keep touching it. Roman’s breath hitched a little when Virgil’s hands moved to his neck, but he let him continue. His breathing got even faster as Virgil practically climbed on top of him to get a better reach. Upon hearing Roman’s little breathy noises, he snapped out of his concentration, looking down at Roman, who’d turned bright red. 

He chuckled a little, but didn’t move, much to Roman’s confusion. Not necessarily… bad confusion, though. 

Virgil broke into his thoughts. “I’m in charge, huh?”

All Roman could bring himself to do was nod as Virgil tugged at his shirt a bit. 

“In that case,” Virgil suggested, “we might as well enjoy it.”

Roman could not have agreed more.


End file.
